


Followed by Death

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Harry's touched by death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry meets Death through his whole life. It's a constant reminder, and a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Followed by Death

The first time Harry’d seen Death was when he was just four years old. 

He was an intelligent child, of course, so he was sitting in the study staring stonily at the block letters of his grammar book early in the morning when he heard the door creak open. 

In stumbled a boy his age, maybe a bit younger, with big brown eyes. He looked nervous, and tripped over himself as he toddled towards Harry. 

“Who are you?” The heir asked suspiciously, closing his grammar book and sitting up. “How did you get in?” 

He looked up, and Harry marveled at how messy the boy’s hair was. “I’m Death. Who’re you?” 

Death? That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be. “I’m Harry Osborn. Why’re you here?” 

Death shrugged, struggling into the seat next to him. “I’m supposed to take you.” 

Harry skittered back, as far away from Death as he could be. “That isn’t right,” he argued, his neat grammar book lying forgotten between them. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

Pausing, Death stared at the wall across from them for a moment. Then, he nodded slowly. “Is there anybody here who’s sick?” 

Harry glanced over at him, nodding. “Yeah. My mom’s sick, but Dad said she was getting better. Why?” 

Without another word Death stumbled off the chair, and when Harry blinked he was no longer a young toddler, but an old man that Harry thought vaguely resembled the photos he’d seen of his deceased grandfather. 

He stepped out of the study and shut the door behind him, leaving Harry to wonder and think.

~

The next time Death saw Harry was when he was eleven. 

He wasn’t there for him, though. No, he’d come to the airport for a man who’d had a particularly bad heart attack while boarding a plane, but he could wait a while.

Harry, in his eleven-year old glory, looked professionally glum as he talked lowly to a boy who looked about ten, with unruly brown hair and large doe-eyes. 

He knew whose form he’d been stealing whenever he visited the Osborn boy. 

Death watched Harry step forward and embrace the boy, holding tightly to him. 

Then he moved on, like he had to. 

He moved to the airport’s infirmary, and hoped that he wouldn’t see Harry again for a long while. 

~

It was sooner than he wanted it to be. 

Sixteen-year old Harry Osborn was slender and lanky, with translucent blue eyes that were, at the moment, rolling into the back of his head. 

Alcohol poisoning, and it was working fast. 

“It’s not your time yet,” Death growled, taking the form of an awkward fifteen-year old with the same unruly brown hair and large eyes as the boy from the airport as he unapologetically watched Harry retch into a nearby bin, stroking his hair in some attempt to soothe him. 

Harry rolled over once he was finished, staring up at Death unflinchingly. “You don’t scare me.” 

Death gazed down at him, nodding softly to himself. “I know you aren’t. But everyone has a time, and right now isn’t yours.” 

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, his grip on Death’s hand loosening. 

He was asleep for now, and Death could live with that. 

~

Again, his next visit was sooner than he’d like. 

It wasn’t for him, again, only for his long-resisting father. 

When he stepped into the dark room, hidden by Emily Osborn’s figure, he was greeted with the sight of Harry sitting there, staring at his father’s sleeping figure. 

He looked up when Death entered, the significance of his form not lost on the heir. He often forgot about how much his father had loved her. 

“It took you long enough,” Harry started quietly, voice different from when Death’d last heard it. 

Older. More mature. 

He sat down in a chair next to him, shrugging. “It wasn’t his time until now.” 

Harry shifted slightly, his eyes falling back to his father. “Why can I see you?” 

“You were . . . touched by me. Your mother had nearly died while she was pregnant with you, and I must have . . . gotten to you. Somehow.” 

There was a pause, and Harry nodded. Death felt a twinge of guilt. 

“It’s time.” He said softly, looking to Norman. 

Harry nodded quietly. “I understand.” 

Death closed its eyes, hoping again that it would be a long time before he’d see Harry again. 

~

The next time Death saw Harry, it was for somebody else on the crowded streets of New York. 

However, it was hard to miss the multi-billionaire, especially while he was holding hands and, well, quite explicitly making out with the boy from the airport, years ago. 

He paused, a few shoulders knocking into his current form(he was a rather large man, with dark hair and a tired face) as they passed. 

Harry’s hands rested easily on Peter’s(his name, Death’d learned, was Peter) hips, and when he pulled away there was a happy smile on his lips and he’d pressed his forehead to Peter’s. 

Death’s smile was soft, unlike the work he did, and he lingered just long enough to watch them exchange slow smiles and murmured words. 

Then, he passed, fell in with the bustling natives of New York. 

~

He wasn’t there for Harry. 

No, he was instead there for the bleeding boy, just a year younger than he, resting in Harry’s arms. 

Harry looked up when he heard footsteps, a final contrast to Peter’s endless whimpering. 

He was in a red-and-blue suit, a costume he recognized from a ten-year old cancer patient he’d taken last week. Spider-Man. 

“No,” Harry snarled, tightening his hold on his lover. “No. Get out. I can fix this.” 

Death knelt down next to Harry, looking down at Peter’s finishing wound. 

Harry’s hands were covering it, long fingers stained with blood that flowed between his fingertips. 

“Harry,” Death said softly, his voice full of regret. 

The man shook his head, eyes fierce and full of tears. “No. You can’t. It isn’t his time, he’s too young.” 

His voice was panicked, because he knew what was coming. 

Peter’s grip on the fabric of Harry’s shirt loosened, and Death sighed quietly. “It’s time, Harry. I can’t delay it any longer.” 

Harry gave a shaky huff, finally breaking. He collapsed, leaning to rest his head against the webslinger’s chest. 

“I love you,” He sobbed, tears wetting the red and blue. 

Death hesitated, before reaching out with a tired hand. 

~

“Don’t do this.” 

Harry didn’t look up from where he stared at the wall opposite him, gun resting easily in his lap. “Everybody’s got a time. It must be mine.” 

Death, taking the form of six-foot-tall Peter Parker, nodded softly. “I know. But I really wish it wasn’t.” 

When Harry finally looked up, he cringed. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Death asked, taking a step closer. 

Harry took a sip from a glass cup, amber liquid swirling inside. “Look like him.” 

Death shook his head, sitting down beside Harry. “I can’t control it. This is supposed to comfort you.” 

“No black cloak and skeleton hands, then.” Harry laughed bitterly, taking another sip of his drink, holding his glass with shaking hands. 

He could see it. Death could see the genetic illness lying under Harry’s skin, could see the inevitable death coming for Harry in some distant future. 

Before Death could reply, Harry spoke up again. 

“What happens? After you take me?” 

Death paused, shaking his head after a long moment. “I don’t know. I take you, and you go from there. I’m just the middle man.” 

“Will I see him?” 

He didn’t need to wonder who Harry was asking about. 

“I couldn’t say.” He replied honestly, looking down at his hands. Hands that took things away. 

Harry nodded slowly, taking the gun into his hand and raising it to the side of his head. “Is it time yet?” 

Death looked up at Harry, into his nearly clear blue eyes. He nodded. “I think so.” 

The blue eyes closed, and a shot was fired. 

Death reached out and found Harry’s hand, and gripped it tightly. For the first time in eternity, he was afraid of letting go. 

He didn’t let go. 

He wouldn’t let himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments + Kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
